


high tide, incoming

by noctelle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 18:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11213409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noctelle/pseuds/noctelle
Summary: It starts like this:They’re sitting across from each other at a table in the local burger joint, tossing casual banter and the occasional insult back and forth. It’s familiar and comfortable, reminiscent of every other conversation they’ve ever had, until out of nowhere Lance leans forward and says with a mouth full of fries, “Let’s date.”





	high tide, incoming

****It starts like this:

They’re sitting across from each other at a table in the local burger joint, tossing casual banter and the occasional insult back and forth. It’s familiar and comfortable, reminiscent of every other conversation they’ve ever had, until out of nowhere Lance leans forward and says with a mouth full of fries, “Let’s date.”

Keith nearly chokes in the middle of a swig of soda. Judging from the shameless way Lance throws it out, they might as well be talking about the weather or the latest movie. But then again, Lance has always been a force of nature in the way he throws everything off balance and tears down the most sturdy, carefully built walls without even knowing it. It's why Keith can't help but be drawn to him, despite every single instinct telling him otherwise. It's also why, in this instance, Keith is feeling particularly screwed.

By some miracle he manages not to spew Coke everywhere, dissolving into a bout of coughing and clutching at his throat feeling distinctly like he’s drowning. As if that weren’t bad enough, Lance opts to do nothing more than sit and watch, and even has the nerve to look the slightest bit amused.

“What,” Keith chokes out between coughs, “the _hell,_ Lance _._ ”

“What?” Lance says defensively, both hands in the air. Lance’s own brand of obliviousness never fails to amaze Keith, considering he has just turned Keith’s world upside-down with two words. “Is it really that big of a deal?”

It isn't, objectively speaking, but Keith possesses not only the ability to make a big deal out of everything but also certain _feelings_ about Lance in particular. He came to the conclusion that the human heart is a fickle and treacherous thing when he first saw Lance shirtless and was utterly unprepared for the mess of emotions and self-discovery that came with it. Sometime later, he decided that dealing with feelings was more trouble than it was worth and resolved to sweep the whole thing under the rug.

It’d been working just fine until Lance had to come along and wreck all his plans like he usually does.

Wondering whether he should vomit or lunge forward across the table and shake some sense into him, Keith finally settles for a roll of his eyes and another gulp of soda. “You don’t even like guys.”

“Hey, I’m willing to try it out. There’s a first for everything,” Lance, the traitor, says, spreading his arms out wide. “What do you say?”

 _You’ve got to be kidding me,_ is what Keith wants to say. He has the nagging feeling that either this is one of his dreams or Lance is just playing with him. It’s humiliating how often he’s imagined this very conversation between them, and now it feels unreal. To stall for time, he takes a large, aggressive bite out his burger and chews slowly.

He finally says, “Do you even know what you're talking about?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Lance protests. His expression suddenly becomes very serious, and he leans forward as if confiding something top-secret. “Listen, I’ve been thinking lately, okay?”

“That’s a new one,” Keith quips dryly.

“Shut up, Mr. Dark and Broody.” Lance grabs a fry and points it at him accusingly. “At least I don’t wear fingerless gloves and black T-shirts every day.”

“I do _not_ brood! And my favorite color is red. Not black.”

“Yeah, uh huh, whatever. Anyway, I was thinking, I’m already seventeen and I’ve even never dated anyone before,” Lance confesses to his food, twirling a fry in his fingers absently. His expression is a little wistful, Keith thinks, something like longing mixed in with the usual display of confidence. _You’re not as deceptive as you think you are,_ he thinks.

He decides not to acknowledge the heavy feeling in his gut and instead says, “Wow. Shocking.”

“Ugh, could you stop snarking for two seconds!” Lance pouts, but remains deep in thought. “With all this saving-the-universe business,” he says, “who knows when we’ll be able to stay in one place for more than a few days at a time, y’know? Or how long we’ll even survive. And I have to say I’ve dated before I die. It’s an absolute _must._ ”

“Then why ask _me_?” Keith’s mouth feels suddenly dry, and he takes another swig of Coke to wash it down. _Unfamiliar territory,_ his brain warns him, like it does whenever he's infiltrating enemy headquarters with only his bayard and survival instincts keeping him alive. Except somehow this feels far more dangerous than any mission he'd ever been on. “Ask one of those alien girls you’re always flirting with.”

“I’m not stupid! I’ve already thought about that, and keeping a long-distance relationship takes more time and effort than I’m willing to give. Besides, I’ve heard most relationships die if you don’t see each other every day.” Lance gives him a pointed look.

“Look, I didn’t ask to be stuck on this ship with you either,” Keith mutters, but his mind is still racing. “What about Hunk? You two are practically domestic anyway.”

“Hunk’s my best friend,” Lance insists adamantly. Clearly he’s thought this whole thing through already, which would be surprising Lance didn’t take his love life as seriously as Keith takes his training. “I’ve known him since I was four. I can’t just ruin a decades-long friendship like that.”

“Okay, then… Allura?”

“Are you kidding? She’d kick my ass.” As if reading his mind, Lance plows on: “Pidge is practically my little sister, I can’t date her, and Coran is like my uncle. And don’t get me wrong, I love Shiro as much as the next person, but I don’t have the guts to ask him out. Plus I wanna be the dominant one in the relationship.”

Keith makes an indignant sound, and Lance waves a hand. “I’ve thought this all through already, Kogane. You can’t get out of this one.”

Now desperate, Keith mentally cycles through the inhabitants of the Castle and comes up empty-handed. He heaves a sigh. “Lance, I can’t date you.”

“Oh, come _on_ ,” Lance whines. “Hunk says we argue like a married couple already, and they say opposites attract, right? Red and blue? Fire and ice? We’re practically meant to be. So why not?”

 _Because,_ Keith thinks. _Because for you, it’s just an experiment. Because my heart feels like it’s heading straight for a train wreck whenever I’m with you._ But instead he just says, “I just can’t. It’s too weird.”

“It won’t be weird after the first few weeks,” Lance insists. “Let’s just try it for a month, just so I can see what it’s like. If it’s still weird, we can stop. And by then I’ll be able to say I’ve dated someone.” He leans forward on the table, so close Keith can see the smatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose, like stars, and the bright flecks of blue in his dark eyes; he can practically feel the warmth from Lance’s skin radiating outward. His breath hitches, and he instinctively inches backward.

“Lance, I—” But Lance is giving him the classic puppy-dog look, eyes wide and pleading, and Keith can’t say no. He exhales, making his bangs float upward, then concedes, “Fine. But only for a month.”

“Really?” Lance looks surprised for a moment, as if he hadn’t even been expecting Keith to agree, then lets out a triumphant crow. “We’re gonna be so good, just you wait. Everyone’s gonna talk about us wherever we go, like, _Lance and Keith: Ass-Kicking Space Boyfriends_. Or _Space Ranger Partners_. Something like that.”

“Don’t you dare,” Keith warns. “Or else I’m backing out, and you won’t be able to say you’ve dated anyone ever.”

Lance wrinkles his nose. “Cruel. You’re not my first choice for a boyfriend either,” he grumbles, but after a second’s hesitation, he reaches out and grabs Keith’s hand in both of his own. “This is gonna be so good,” he mumbles to himself. The contact sends a something like bolt of lightning through Keith’s body and he bites his lip. _You’re done, Kogane_. If he can’t even get past the most casual of touches without feeling as if he’s hurtling off a cliff, there’s no way he can survive the next few weeks.

Of all the stupid decisions he’s made in his life, this has to be the worst. He picks up his burger, but the feeling of nausea in the pit of his stomach is too much and he feels like he’s submerged a hundred feet under the water’s surface with no way out.

+ 

For their next mission, Lance and Keith are assigned to patrol the halls of some alien planet’s headquarters looking for enemy guards while Pidge hacks her way into the main computing system and retrieves an important piece of data. It gives Keith a much-needed break from trying to untangle the mess of his feelings and lets him concentrate on mindlessly hacking and slashing, but to his dismay, the corridors are strangely quiet for once.

To make things worse, Lance keeps walking so _close_ and their shoulders brush more times than necessary, and Keith swears it’s on purpose. He keeps a firm grip on his bayard until his knuckles ache, taking deep breaths to calm his nerves.

“I wonder how Pidge is doing,” Lance starts to say as they pass out of the main corridor, at the same time Keith blurts, “What’s the difference between being friends and dating?”

“Geez. Calm down, man,” Lance laughs, and the sound of it echoes through the halls and Keith feels lightheaded. “You look like you’re about to kill something.”

 _We’re on a search-and-destroy mission, if you’d forgotten,_ Keith almost says, but instead insists, “No, seriously. I need to know.”

“What, this been keeping you up at night?” Lance scoffs, and Keith cringes because he’s come a little too close to the truth than he’d like to admit.

“Just answer the question,” he says, and checks to make sure they’re not talking into the main comms link so Hunk and Pidge won’t have anything to tease him with when they return. Lance looks at him like he’s from another planet.

“When two people are dating they’re in love, idiot,” he says as if it were obvious. “It’s different than being friends. What, do you need me to define _friends_ for you too?”

Keith ignores the jab. “How do you know if you’re in love?”

They turn a corner and enter another empty corridor.

“You’re asking _me_?” Lance sounds incredulous. “People spend their whole lives trying to define love, dude. Just look at all those love poems and songs out there. How am _I_ supposed to figure it out if everyone else can’t?”

“So you finally admit it,” Keith can’t resist saying, and Lance makes a high-pitched, indignant noise.

“Hey! Love is hard to come by. I’ve only ever had crushes.”

“Crushes?”

“Shh!” Lance freezes, looking behind him, and Keith mentally curses himself for being so distracted. He gets into position and activates his bayard, scanning the empty hallways and listening for any noises. They stay still for a moment, before Lance relaxes and resumes walking.

“Sorry, I thought I heard something,” he says, but Keith’s mind is still racing as he hurries to catch up.

“What do you mean by crushes?” he pants, slightly out of breath.

“Persistent, aren’t you?” Lance glances over, the corner of his mouth curled upward in amusement. “I sometimes forget you lived in the desert for a year and don’t have any experience with any of this stuff.”

“Lance."

“Fine! Sorry.” Lance pouts. _It’s cute on him,_ Keith thinks, then immediately turns away in embarrassment when the thought fully registers. “A crush is small, I guess,” Lance continues. “You think they’re attractive or nice or funny or something. It’s not a big deal.”

“Sure,” Keith says. Doesn’t sound too bad. He takes in Lance’s features, the curve of his lips and the curl of his eyelashes, his warm brown skin and bright eyes, and then remembers himself. _Leave it at a crush,_ he urges himself, _and nothing more_.

“Love is different. It’s, like, more serious.” Lance frowns, his features scrunched up in thought. “You like everything about the other person, even their flaws and weaknesses. You want to spend the rest of your life with them, get married.”

 _I’d spend the rest of my life with you,_ Keith thinks before he can stop himself, then nearly freezes in his tracks when realizes the enormity of it all. Sure, he’s annoyed at Lance more often than not, and they argue more than any other pair he knows, but even Lance’s weaker qualities—his flirting, his self-assurance, his horrible piloting skills—are hopelessly endearing. Keith’s too far gone to dismiss this as a harmless crush, he realizes.

“Keith? You okay there, buddy?” Lance glances over. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“So when two people date, they're in love,” he says, his throat hoarse.

“Yeah,” Lance replies cheerfully, completely unaware of Keith’s internal dilemma. “They go on actual dates too. Real stuff.” He seems to come to a sudden realization, and turns toward Keith with a grin. “Hey, when we finish this mission, I’ll take you on one. It’ll be fun!”

“We just went out for burgers the other day,” Keith points out, feeling his heartbeat start to ratchet in his chest and hating that Lance has this effect on him.

“We weren’t dating then,” Lance insists. “This’ll be different.” He opens his mouth to say more, but then they hear footsteps echoing down the hallway and instantly get into position, Lance raising his bayard and preparing to shoot while Keith readies his sword.

“Fine. You better make it out of this alive then,” he calls over to Lance, who only smirks.

“Whatever you say, babe. See you on the other side!”

+

On their next visit to Earth, Lance takes Keith to the beach after dinner and a movie. It may just be another one of Lance’s stupid ideas, but it certainly feels real, sitting on the sand watching the perpetual rise and fall of the waves as the sun sinks under the horizon and the sky darkens. Keith keeps his eyes trained on Lance’s profile as he rambles about the clear ocean and his parents’ house back in Cuba, something warm making itself known in his chest. Lance looks so at home here by the water, the endless expanse of the sea reflected in his eyes, that Keith wonders how he could ever have left all this behind.

“We could’ve gone to Varadero if you wanted,” Keith says finally. Lance shakes his head quickly, something frantic in the way his eyes dart to Keith’s and away again.

“Nah, it’s good.”

“Why not? Sounds like you miss it a lot,” Keith says.

A pause, then: “Well, yeah. Of course I miss home.”

Lance’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet. Keith watches him tap his fingers in the sand. He’s still looking away, as if afraid to meet Keith’s gaze.

“It sound stupid, but…” Lance huffs out a laugh. “I mean, what’s not to miss in Varadero? Blue skies, clear water, my mom’s cooking…” He trails off, gazing at a spot in the distance only he can see. Keith watches him lose himself in his memories and, just briefly, wonders what it feels like to have a home. Then he shakes his head, pushes the thought out of his mind as quickly as it came. At the moment, he’s too tired to drown in a sea of self-pity.

Above them, the sky looms huge and intimidating like an endless void, stars blinking out at them through the darkness and reflecting on the water in bright spots of color. The sky is clearer than usual tonight.

“Back home, I never realized how big the universe was, you know?” Lance says.

Keith snorts. “You can say that again.” Memories of the months he spent in the desert surface unbidden: the way time seemed to stand still, barren sand and rock stretching out for as far as he could see, constellations like gems stitched into the fabric of a velvet black sky. He recalls feeling overwhelmed by the sheer vastness of it all, as if nature was indifferent to his presence entirely.

Silence settles over them like a blanket, awkward and unfamiliar. Just as Keith opens his mouth to say something lame about how nice the sunset is, Lance turns to him expectantly, eyebrows raised. “So. How was the date?”

“The squid ink ruined it for me,” Keith says, thinking distinctly of the seafood place they’d tried for dinner. Lance laughs and jostles him with his shoulder, and Keith nudges back without thinking. Then he remembers what he’s doing and pulls back into his own personal space.

Still, his mind takes it and runs a marathon with it. _It’s like we’re really dating_ , he thinks stupidly. Uselessly.

“No, really,” Lance insists. “What’d you think?”

“I don’t know. Is this what normal people do when they go on dates?” Keith says because quite frankly, he knows little about social conventions at all, let alone dating.

“Well, yeah.” Lance appears to be deep in thought, gazing out at the water and eyes somewhere far away. He seems to come to a realization pretty quickly, because he wheels around to face Keith directly.

“Except we haven’t kissed.”

“Wait, what,” Keith starts, then stops, feeling a feeling of dread creep into the pit of his stomach and into his throat so that he it hurts to swallow. He feels as if they’re at the burger joint again and Lance is overturning his world with his spontaneous, ridiculous ideas. It’s what Lance does best, he supposes, though that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

But before he can protest, Lance is already leaning forward, too close, reaching out to place a curious hand to the side of Keith’s face and threading his fingers into his hair. Keith’s breath hitches, his heart rate speeding up until the pounding in his chest starts to become painful.

“What are you—” he starts, but then Lance leans in and closes the distance between their lips. It’s soft and hesitant, even shy if Keith didn’t know better, and so much unlike Lance in its gentleness that Keith wonders if this is the same Lance he thinks he knows: the same boy who fingerguns at himself in the mirror and plays songs Keith doesn't know over the comms link just to annoy him. It’s different, but nice, he realizes.

But it ends before he can fully register the contact, and Lance has pulled back and is studying his face thoughtfully. Keith tries to swallow over a lump in his throat.

“Y-you,” he stammers, but the words fail. Lance has the nerve to laugh.

“Wow, you look absolutely wrecked,” he says with a grin. “It was just a kiss, man.”

“ _Just_ a kiss?” Keith has to resist the urge to grab his collar in both of his fists and strangle him. “God, Lance, you can’t just go around... _kissing_ people like that!”

“Why not?” Lance argues. “We’re dating, right?”

“Yeah, but—!” A thousand things he could say comes to mind, but for some reason Keith’s ability to speak has conveniently left him and he’s left spluttering. Lance watches him completely humiliate himself for a moment longer before chuckling.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a crush on me.” He smirks. “But then again, it’s Keith Kogane I’m talking to.”

“W-what’s that supposed to mean?” Keith splutters.

“I mean, it’s hard to imagine you having any feelings other than angry, annoyed, and moody,” Lance says. “Have you ever even had a crush?”

Keith’s patience, which had been wearing thin, finally snaps. He’s always preferred to act on impulse without thinking, and that habit comes in now. “I do, and I’m seriously wondering why I even like him right now,” he mutters.

“What are you even talking about,” Lance starts, then stops short. Keith watches as confusion gives way to realization, then shock. His eyes go wide as he stares at Keith, at the pinkness in his cheeks and his ragged breathing. He leans in again experimentally, brushes his knuckles softly again Keith’s jaw and watches him hitch in a breath.

“You…like me,” Lance says dumbly, shaking his head as if he doesn’t believe it.

“Clearly, idiot.”

“No, I meant—you actually _like_ me.”

“Yeah. Why’s that so hard to understand?” Keith mutters, and not for the first time, wonders why he’s so determined to wreck his own life. Lance falls silent and then they both realize the gravity of the moment and look away, flushed.

Keith watches the waves spill onto the sand, higher and higher, and this that this might be what it feels like to drown, when the waves crash over your head and you can no longer find your way to the surface. 

+ 

He knows Lance likes to flirt—all too well, in fact. But it doesn’t make it any easier when, at the next extraterrestrial welcome ceremony they attend, Keith watches Lance flirt with the female aliens seated across from them at dinner. He doesn’t realize he’s staring until Pidge’s clever eyes catch him and she turns to him with a look that, besides knowing too much, is laced with the slightest hint of sympathy. It doesn’t make him feel any better.

“You can talk to him,” she murmurs, and Keith stands up abruptly.

“I’m gonna—” he starts. “Go. To the bathroom.” She nods, her eyes never leaving his as he leaves the table.

Once in the hallway, Keith leans against the wall and loosens his tie, heart pounding as if he’d just gone ten rounds with the training bot. This really needs to stop. _He_ needs to stop. He’s not sure how much more of—whatever this is—he can take, but if he has to watch Lance hit on anything and everything _except_ for him, he’ll punch something.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, babe,” someone says into his ear.

Lance is at his shoulder. Keith doesn’t look back, or ask why he followed him.

If Pidge weren’t so infuriatingly perceptive he would’ve just been able to avoid the whole thing, he thinks. But of course, she’s Pidge, and Keith is hopeless.

“Stop flattering yourself,” he mutters.

“I’m not _that_ dumb, you know. I can tell when someone’s crushing on me,” Lance says, cracking a grin.

“Maybe because it’s never happened before?” Keith can’t resist saying. It’s almost comical how quickly Lance’s expression turns into a pout. It’s fun getting him riled up, Keith realizes, even if they’re arguing. Another reason why his life is doomed.

“Hey!” Lance whines. “That’s not true and you know it.”

“Those alien girls over there sure didn’t look interested,” Keith says, with more of an edge than he means to. Lance, to his credit, seems to sense his tone and backs off, studying him carefully. His expression becomes more serious.

“Anyway.” After an uncharacteristic hesitation, Lance takes a deep breath and says, “Feel like dancing?” He stumbles over the words, and Keith at least feels a little better knowing he’s not the only nervous one.

“Are you kidding?” Keith feels hysterical. “I can’t dance!”

“It’s fine, I’ll teach you.” Lance winks. “Too much time dancing with my sisters has taught me more ballroom dancing than I ever needed to know.”

He takes Keith’s hand and leads him to the dance floor, and the tension between them seems to lessen somehow. Keith puts his hand on Lance’s shoulder and Lance holds him by the waist, and they sway back and forth among throngs of dancing aliens.

Lance, Keith has to admit, looks absolutely stunning in a suit. Not that he expected otherwise. He smells nice too, and Keith tries not to inhale the smell of his cologne too eagerly. Briefly, he wonders where the others are, and avoids looking back at the table in fear of seeing Pidge smirking at him.

Deep breaths. _You were the top student at the Garrison for a reason, Kogane. Get it together._

“So,” Lance says, and Keith’s attention immediately snaps back to him. “You like me, huh.”

“Lance.” Keith is torn between dread and a weird sense of relief. Avoiding a subject has never really been his style. “We’ve been over this.”

“I’m still surprised though,” Lance says with a grin. “The one and only Keith Kogane actually has _feelings_ , and for me of all people! I’m a lucky man.”

He leans forward, invading Keith’s personal space as easily as he always does when they’re arguing, until they’re nose to nose and Keith finds himself drowning in the depths of endless blue eyes. Their lips nearly brush. Keith inhales, sharply.

He pulls back a little to see Lance watching him intently.

“You must really like me,” Lance murmurs, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself, and leans in a little more. Keith jerks back before their lips touch.

“Lance,” he warns. “Stop.”

Lance, to his credit, pulls back, but that doesn’t stop him from smirking. “I knew it,” he crows. “I totally called it. You're madly in love with me. You want to marry me.”

“It’s just a crush,” Keith protests, but it sounds feeble even to him.

“Uh huh. Right.” Lance twirls him around and he almost stumbles. It’s not the only thing making Keith dizzy. He resists the urge to clutch at his chest and wonders why he even agreed to this.

“So, I'm curious,” Lance says. “Why do you even like me anyway?” His eyes are wide and expectant, and Keith’s feeling more than a little spiteful right now.

“To be honest, I ask myself the same question every day.”

“ _Keith,_ ” Lance whines. “Come on! I wanna know.”

“No, seriously!” Keith says, and all his frustrations come spilling back again. “I have no idea! It’s the worst. Whenever I’m with you, my heart feels like it’s going at a hundred miles per hour and I can barely think straight. Like I don’t even know what to do to stop it! It’s not like I _want_ to have a crush on you, believe me. It feels like a wreck, honestly.”

He pauses. “But other times, it—it’s nice. I can’t stop smiling when we’re together. Or laughing. It just makes me happy, even if we’re talking about the smallest things. Even when we’re arguing. Having your attention on me, _just_ me, feels nothing else I've ever experienced before.”

Keith stops when he realizes Lance, miraculously, hasn’t said anything for the past minute and is now staring at him with wide eyes. His brain finally catches up to his mouth and when he realizes everything he’s just said, he ducks his head to hide his burning face. “God, this must sound so stupid right now.”

Lance continues staring at him for a full minute, then turns away to hide a blush that matches Keith’s own. Around them, couples keep turning, but neither of them pays attention. The atmosphere is suddenly awkward.

“Oh,” is all Lance says, his cheeks pink. 

+ 

Lance’s room in the Castle is dark and silent. It reminds Keith of all the cold and lonely nights when he’d been too restless to sleep, so he’d stared up at the ceiling of his own room as if it contained all the answers to his dilemmas. The difference is that there is someone sitting on the bed next to him now, looking just as lost and confused as he feels. They’re only a few inches apart, but the chasm between them feels insurmountable.

Lance murmurs, “I don’t think this is gonna work.”

Keith looks through the window, watches as they soar past planets and stars and comets too numerous to count. Spheres of colored light blink out at him until it all becomes a singular haze of color and his head starts to spin. He turns to rest his eyes on Lance’s profile, outlined faintly by light against the darkness.

“You’re breaking up with me, right,” Keith says dryly, “and I’m not reading this wrong or anything?” Lance looks up with a start, as if he’d forgotten Keith was even there.

“I…guess?” He sounds unsure about his own answer. “Don't get me wrong, though,” Lance adds quickly. “It’s been really fun. I’ve been thinking, and I realized that—that I actually kinda like this. It feels so normal. Easy.”

 _Easy._ Keith thinks of ridiculous jokes over shakes and burgers and accidental hand brushes at the movies, imagines Lance’s bright laugh and hair ruffled by the gentle ocean breeze at sunset. Somehow it doesn’t feel foreign or different at all.

Lance continues, “And you're an amazing person, Keith, I could never…”

“Let me guess, it's not me, it's you?” Keith finishes, getting the weird feeling that this is like a breakup scene in one of those movies he’s never watched.

“No—I mean, yeah,” Lance says, and looks away. “Let’s be honest, okay? You can do way better.”

Something warm and unfamiliar blossoms in Keith’s chest. He makes a frustrated noise, wishing he could articulate his thoughts into words more eloquently. “Lance, I already told you that I—”

“You don't get it,” Lance says, his voice hard. “I’m a hard person to love.”

Keith chances a sideways glance, but Lance’s gaze is fixed firmly on the floor. He’s completely still, a rare display of vulnerability from a boy who never stops moving, and for a moment Keith hesitates, unwilling to break the fragility of the moment.

“You don’t mean that,” he says at last, returning his gaze to where his own palms lie uncertain and uncomfortable in his lap.

“Yeah, I do.” Lance’s voice is soft, even though Keith knows he has the ability to fill an entire room with jokes and laughter. “All I do is flirt, but when it comes to committing, I’m terrified. It’s shallow, I know.” He huffs out a laugh.

“Ironic, isn’t it? The ocean is practically a part of me, but I’m scared of going in too deep. I’m afraid of drowning.”

Keith thinks back to when they’d sat on a sun-warmed beach back on Earth, watching waves lap at the sand a few feet away. _In and out, in and out._ It was calm, predictable—soothing even. When you go swimming, you stay near the shore. You don’t swim out into the open sea, where the waves are strong enough to carry you under and hold you there until you drown.

He thought it might be about this. Dozens of potential responses run through his mind, but none of them feel right when he tests them on his tongue, so they sit in silence for a while. This is the first time he's ever been in Lance's room, and Keith lets his gaze wander across the posters of NASA and sport teams plastered over the walls. He notices a framed photo sitting on one of the shelves and remembers all the times Lance had talked about his extended family on Earth.

“Your family loves you,” he says finally, and the word _family_ feels strange and heavy on his tongue. It’s one of those things, along with _love_ and _home_ , that Keith buried deep into the shadowy parts of his mind when he was six years old and refused to think about again.

“Well, yeah, but—I have no idea how they managed to put up with me for seventeen whole years,” Lance says, his fingers twisting into the fabric of his sheets. “I think they—I mean, I…”

He trails off, and when he speaks again, Keith barely catches the words, murmured almost like a shameful admission of guilt. “I was never good enough for them.”

Keith isn’t sure what to say to that. Lance draws back and wraps his arms around his knees, as if trying to make himself as small as possible. The starlight from outside flickers over his features, making him look strange and otherworldly. It’s strange, seeing this side of him. Keith bites his lip. _You’re a good actor._

“Lance,” he starts, his voice dry. It’s incredible how fast Lance turns to look at him, turning the full force of his attention on Keith, and it makes him stumble.

Back at the Garrison, cadets took a personality test and talked with an instructor about their results. Keith’s instructor had given him a warning. _You’re dedicated, kid,_ he’d said, facing Keith across the table in the cold, hard conference room. _With you, it’s all-or-nothing. I respect that. But you gotta choose your battles wisely, or you’ll spread yourself out too thin._

And he clapped Keith on the back. _Find something you care about and dedicate your life to it. Pursue it to the ends of the earth._

Keith reaches out tentatively, into the inscrutable void, and rests his hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lance is warm.

He says, “I think you’re good enough.”

“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better, you know,” Lance mumbles.

“No, I mean it,” Keith tells him. He can’t remember the last time he’d gotten so worked up over something. “This is Keith Kogane you’re talking to, remember? Do you think I go around saying this kind of stuff to everyone?”

Finally, _finally,_ Lance cracks a smile. “You know, you’re really horrible at this,” he says, but his eyes say otherwise. Keith smiles back.

“I know, believe me.” The chasm doesn’t seem so threatening now, so he reaches over and takes Lance’s hands in his. Their hands rest on the bed between them, like a bridge.

“I was wondering, actually,” Lance says, and the tone of his voice tells Keith he’s been thinking about this for a long time. Keith watches him swallow, hesitant, thumbs rubbing small slow circles on Keith’s palms, and waits.

“Have you ever been in love? Or been loved by anyone?”

Keith tenses automatically, all too aware of Lance watching him intently.

When he was six, his foster mother had told him that she loved him and that she’d never leave him. He asked her what love meant, and she said he was too young to worry about it. He ran away a few weeks later.

Keith thinks distinctly of orphanages, foster homes, unfulfilled promises and empty streets. He looks at Lance, whose earnest gaze never leaves Keith, light from the window spilling onto his features and making him look almost ethereal in the darkness.

He says sincerely, “I'm probably wrong, and this is gonna sound insane, but I think—I think I’m in love right now.”

There’s a pause. Keith forces himself to meet Lance’s eyes, which are as wide as saucers. Lance forces a nervous laugh. “W-wait a second. Are you sure about this?”

“Didn’t you hear anything I just said?” Keith nearly explodes. He’s seriously contemplating grabbing Lance by the collar and shaking him until he gains some sense. “Why’s it so hard for you to get into that thick skull of yours that I might, just might, like you?”

Lance avoids his eyes. “Maybe it’s just a crush. Or maybe you love me, but not the _real_ me.”

“Lance, I think I would know.” Exasperated and running out of options, Keith finally decides, _screw it,_ and does what he does best. He grabs both sides of Lance’s face in his hands, brings him down to his level, and kisses him. It’s rushed and sloppy, and when he pulls back Lance is still staring at him completely blankly.

“You get it now?” Keith asks half-heartedly, wondering if he somehow managed to make it worse by breaking Lance.

Silence.

“I think—” Lance sputters, stops, and tries again. “I think maybe you should do it again.” Suddenly he’s smiling brightly, his grin lighting up his face. “Didn’t quite catch it that time.”

So Keith does, the darkness hiding his blush. Lance is prepared for it this time around. He places a hand along Keith’s jaw and tilts his face up so that their lips slot together perfectly. It’s gentle, slow, easy. It makes Keith feel like he could do this ten more times. Lance scoots backward onto the sheets to give them more room, and Keith follows until Lance is leaning against the pillows with Keith pressed against him, hungry for the contact. He wants to press closer until their bodies mend and become one, but for now, he settles for exploring the unknown territory of Lance’s mouth with his tongue. He sucks in a shuddering breath when Lance licks into Keith’s own mouth, grasping at Lance’s arms as he would at an anchor amid the waves.

Lance chuckles softly when they finally pull apart, chests heaving, hair ruffled, faces flushed. Keith wonders what he’s laughing about, but he decides not to ruin the moment. He’ll ask later. Right now, he’s content with lying together in the sheets, limbs tangled together so he can’t tell where he ends and Lance begins.

“I like you,” Lance breathes into the crook of his neck. “I really, _really_ like you.” It’s a little unnecessary considering that they just kissed, but Keith decides to take it anyway. At any rate, it makes the feeling in his chest grow a little warmer, a little more familiar.

“No kidding.” Keith lets out a breathy laugh, tangling his fingers in the short hair at the nape of Lance’s neck.

“No, really! Ever since the Garrison,” Lance confesses to the darkness. Keith can feel his face heating up and marvels at how much it’s taking Lance to tell him this. “I just…could never believe you liked me back.”

“Well, now you know,” Keith says, deadpan, and Lance laughs.

“I had a whole confession planned out and everything,” he admits sheepishly, “but now I can't remember any of it.”

Keith shrugs, burying his head back into Lance’s hair and letting his fingers follow the shape of Lance’s back. “That's how it goes.”

On a good day the sky is clear and the waves are calm, and you can sit on the sand for hours watching the tides roll in gently. Other days, it’ll be stormy and the waves crash against rocks and you wonder why you even spend your time there. But you stay, for better or for worse, and eventually it all becomes another home to you.

Keith thinks he maybe has an idea of what love feels like now, and if not, they have all the possibilities in the universe lying in store for them. Beckoning.


End file.
